The Reunion
by privatepractxce
Summary: The happily married Emma and Killian attend Emma's high school reunion, but what happens when Emma's high school bullies show up to cause trouble? {Oneshot based on a prompt by Millie}


Emma reaches down to smooth the corner of her jacket, catching her finger on the zip as she does. She winces in pain, cursing herself for not choosing the pink dress instead – actually it's Killian she should be cursing, he insisted his favourite of the two outfits was the jeans and boots with the embroidered black top. Which of course she then had to put the black jacket with.

Inwardly she sighs, but her annoyance is soon brushed aside as she turns to look at Killian, who's nervously stroking his stubble, – his perfectly chiselled features are easy on the eyes and just one of the many perks Emma has learnt to appreciate even more since their marriage. "Are you ready?" She whispers, realising they've come to a somewhat abrupt halt just outside the faded red door, the same one Emma lined up outside when she was younger; freezing to death in shorts and a t-shirt as her class waited to be let into the gymnasium. The window in the centre of it vibrates gently, indicating the steady throb of the bass emanating from the disco, and the promise of a long night ahead.

"I think the real question is are _you_ ready, love?" Killian replies, slipping his hand into hers and interlocking their fingers, a simple gesture to let her know that they are in this together and he's by her side no matter what. Tentatively Emma nods, breathes deeply and then nods once more, this time with a sense of purpose.

"We've got this." She states, reaching out for the door handle and pushing it down slowly. The door appears to swing open in slow motion, revealing everything in half speed, and allowing them both to take in the sight before them. Round tables, adorned with glitter and old polaroid photos stretch from wall to wall, whilst a silver and blue balloon arch indicates the entrance to the dance floor. People stand in groups, milling about – most seem to be carrying wine glasses and a few are laughing, whether at their high school antics or the woes of family life, the pair can't tell. A 'Class Of 2001' banner takes centre stage hanging down in the middle of the room, Killian is stunned by the effort that has clearly gone into the planning, Emma on the other hand is struggling to keep in her laughter and after a few seconds of holding her breath lets a giggle escape. A few heads turn as her and Killian walk past, her giggling steadily increasing in volume. When they reach a secluded table in the corner of the room he playfully elbows her and raises his eyebrow. "I'm sorry." She says, catching her breath. "It's just all this…" She removes her hand from his and waves her arm towards the rest of the room. "For a class reunion. When this was and always will be the crappiest school in the district." A red flush has swept her cheeks and somehow Killian manages to find the absurdity of his wife's reaction endearing. _Somehow_.

"Bloody hell Swan." Killian's grinning from ear to ear. "Whilst you take a minute to regain your composure I suppose I should get us something to drink. I don't suppose they're serving rum?" Emma slaps his arm playfully before reaching up to fiddle with her Swan necklace.

"No I don't suppose they are." She replies, flashing him a grin wide enough to rival his own. Whilst Killian is off finding beverages, and no doubt adding a dash of rum to whatever is in the punch bowl, Emma scans the room trying desperately to find someone she recognises. A task which is proving to be surprisingly difficult considering she was supposed to be in a class with these people.

After a few minutes, she sets eyes on a group of women striding towards her, all dressed – scarily enough, in what could almost be matching outfits. Out of five women four have their hair scraped back into buns, and three are wearing pencil skirts with heels. Emma can't help but think they're overdoing it for what was advertised as an informal reunion. As they get closer she notices the carefully applied foundation they've all donned, in an attempt to hide the worry lines already etched on their otherwise pristine faces – in contrast Emma has yet to have discovered any worry lines forming on _her_ face and it dawns on her that she should chalk it up to the carefree life she has managed to settle into with her pirate. Emma makes a mental note to thank him later.

Before she realises it, the group of women are stood almost on top of her, practically trapping her between the table and the wall, that's when it dawns on her. She knows **exactly** who they are. Memories of her high school career dredge up from the murky waters of her mind, unbidden. Behind her eyelids flashes of being shoved into lockers and watching her favourite grey beanie swirl around in the toilet bowl replay themselves over and over again. "Emma." One of the women steps forward, tilting her head and putting on an excruciatingly sickly voice "Long time, no see." Involuntarily Emma recoils, struggling to hide the disgust threatening to engulf her features.

"Peggy." She retorts, feigning ignorance to the clear subtext of this encounter and providing a faint smile.

"I guess orphans really are destined to end up alone, it's a shame really. I have three wonderful children now, I suppose you've heard, and I'm married to a C.E.O. He's around here someone." Peggy briefly glances around the room before reaching for her purse, no doubt to fish out her cell phone and shove whatever saccharine photos of her little angels she's got saved. The other women stare blankly at Emma, their heads all tilted to the side in the same way, as though they are marionettes and someone else is pulling the strings. Emma scans them one at a time, noticing the faint marks of baby powder that cling to their shirts and the chipped nail polish on their bony hands.

Peggy has now produced her phone from her purse and is scrolling through what appears to be thousands of photos. Meanwhile one of the other women pipes up, breaking the silence "Where's that beanie of yours? Always hiding that nest of hair. Grey wasn't it, always needing a wash?" Unlike before, Emma can't put a name to this face although she'd recognise that wart protruding from the side of the woman's chin anywhere – an unforgettable feature. Just as Emma is about to lose her cool and verbally lash out at her former tormentors, (throwing a precise punch aimed to skew Peggy's _clearly_ fake nose being the final resort) Killian appears behind the gaggle of women waving a wine glass. He's expression one of bemusement. Momentarily their eyes meet.

"Killian." Emma exclaims, putting on her best 'doting wife' expression and reaching to grab his hands – parting the women as she does. "Is that for me?" She smiles, grabbing the wine glass he holds out to her once he's managed to squeeze through, and hastily taking two large gulps. Her husband is now stood next to her, scratching his chin and conveying his confusion to her using just his deep blue eyes. Emma subtly shakes her head at him and rolls her eyes pointedly, after another swig she looks up from her glass, suddenly realising the women have all stopped talking - and the hand Peggy's clutching her phone in is now swaying by her side. Instead, five pairs of eyes are fixed on her husband.

Once again Emma finds herself struggling to hold back laughter. She recognises the look, even after all this time – their slack jaws only confirming her suspicions and providing a further indicator of the lust and jealousy swirling around inside their miniscule brains. Never before has she seen Peggy Crampton at a loss for words. "Did I forget to mention?" Emma smiles, looking at each woman in turn, this is my husband, Killian. He's a sailor." Unlike her own outfit Emma is infinitely pleased with the one Killian is wearing, the royal blue shirt clinging perfectly to his sculpted chest and the muscles in his arms presenting themselves as a defining feature. As usual he chose not to button it all the way to the top, leaving a small tuft of chest hair peeking out just below his skull and dagger chain.

Killian clears his throat, "Is everything alright here Emma?" he asks. Knowing full well his wife is perfectly capable of looking after herself but inquiring to show he's ready to lend his full support, should she need it to extract herself from whatever situation this has become.

Before Emma can reply Peggy speaks up, pausing for a moment with a dumbstruck expression on her face before ploughing on. "Everything's… great" She stutters, failing to even vaguely hide her schoolgirl crush as she rakes her eyes up and down Killian's body. "We were just reminding your wife how much fun we had when we used to go out partying together. Quite a wild one you've got, always up for a laugh." She grimaces as though the lie is physically painful for her. Killian is hardly fooled by the façade and wraps his arm around Emma's waist pulling her in close to his side, almost spilling her wine in the process.

"As lovely as it was to meet you ladies, I know Emma has lots more people to catch up with so we should keep moving." He nudges Emma forward, indicating for her to take the lead. She takes the hint, confidently stepping towards them – Killian still close by her side. Once more the women part just enough to make room for them to pass, but as they do Emma has an idea.

She steps to the side just an inch and sticks her elbow out, making sure it catches Peggy on the way past. The result is her wine glass dramatically tipping and the remaining contents spilling down her high school bullies white blouse. "Now it matches the colour of your cheeks love." Killian points out to Peggy, grinning at her over his shoulder as they walk away. They may have been red from embarrassment before but Killian is pretty sure the deep shade of red they have evolved into is pure anger.

"Too much?" Emma whispers, comfortable in the knowledge the women behind her can't hear over their own hushed remarks about her husband's smile and toned abs, mixed with Penny's high-pitched squawking about her silk blouse. Killian shakes his head.

"I assume we don't like those ladies." He says, as they head back out the red door. Emma chuckles, nuzzling into the side of his neck and deeply inhaling his scent. The hint of musk and sea salt always comforting.

"No, we don't." She murmurs. "Let's go home."


End file.
